Where Is My Mind?
by Anna Lane
Summary: Spoilers for season 3, ep. 1. Celebration one-shot for the new season. Elena needs Damon's help to get Stefan, but they end up doing more than talking. Smut.


Elena hadn't been able to sleep. She couldn't stop thinking about Stefan. He was alive! She didn't know what to do, and it took her a whole night to figure out what she finally could do.

That was why she was running about in such a harried fashion this morning. She had just gotten into the shower when it hit her. She didn't even finish rinsing the shampoo from her hair, in fact. She should tell Damon. She pulled on her crumpled pajamas from the bathroom floor and into some sandals and was out of her house in record time.

Elena knew Damon thought it was hopeless, after all she'd talked to him on the night of her birthday, but that was probably just his frustration showing. Once she told him about the phone call, he would realize it wasn't as bad as it seemed. They would find Stefan together, and then all three of them would take out Klaus. They would get Stefan back!

And she didn't care what she had to say to Damon to get him to help her. She would beg if she had to. She barged into the mansion, not even caring if she glimpsed another all access peep at Damon. "Damon?" She called out, but no reply sounded. Elena spun around, half expecting Damon sneaking up on her. He wasn't there. Some of her excitement faded. He was _always _there when she needed him.

She didn't bother to call out again, she just started to search the mansion for him. She found him easily when she walked into his bedroom and saw the ajoining door to his study was open. She watched him lounge on his back on the couch from her spot in the doorway. This was his private sitting room, and she'd never really gone in it before. It was only slightly less trashed than the rest of the house. Caroline sure had thrown a rager. She stepped inside, wondering why he wasn't saying anything.

"Your friends drank all my booze," his voice made her jump.

"I didn't even know most of them." Elena replied honestly.

He didn't say anything. Elena moved to sit on the couch by his legs. His eyes followed her slowly. "So you're not drunk?" She asked.

In the first appearance of real emotion she'd seen him show, his face flashed into an irritated grimace. "No." He said shortly.

Elena reached over and put her hand on his shoulder. "Stefan called me."

Quicker than she could comprehend, he was off the couch and standing over her, his voice loud as he yelled, "What?"

Elena recoiled and took in an involuntary breath at the sudden movement and noise. "He called me. He wouldn't have done that if he were beyond saving." Elena fought to keep her voice calm and rational.

"He is, Elena." Damon ran a hand through his hair, and turned away from her to stalk across the small room. He was back in an instant. He kneeled on the floor in front of her so his face was just below hers as she sat on the couch. He looked into her eyes, and the gentleness of his voice shocked Elena. "He killed Andie, Elena, as a warning to me. He's gone, and he doesn't want to be saved." Elena was shocked to see that his eyes had tears welled in them. She hadn't thought he'd cared that much for Andie.

"You've killed people." Elena pointed out quietly.

Anger replaced all sadness in his face, and he got up to storm away from her yet again, but he came back just as quickly this time. "And if it were me?" He asked with an intense gleam in his eyes. "If I had just went up and started killing people in bloody massacres?"

Elena swallowed. "I'd say the same thing."

"Liar." Damon stated harshly, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her to her feet so she could see his face up close. Elena's heart started to beat harder, and her breath came faster.

"No," she denied. "I know you, Damon. I would know you could be saved." Her voice was strong, despite the painful grip he still had on her arms.

"You're wrong." He said weakly. Elena relaxed slightly in his grip and let out a deep breath. His forehead sank against hers, and he pulled her closer in an embrace.

"No," Elena whispered, drawing her arms around him and tracing his back. "You are good. I know it. I wouldn't have made it through the past months without you."

"No!" Damon yelled suddenly, pushing her away so roughly she fell onto the couch. Her breath escaped, and before she could draw in another mouthful, his mouth was there blocking her. He pushed her further back onto the couch and climbed on top of her, the grip that held her down unbearably tight.

She moved her mouth against his in panic, unable to draw air, let alone tell him to stop. He finally moved away a fraction of an inch. "I'm not good," he told her, almost as if it were an apology. His mouth was there once more, lightning quick, his tongue finding its way into her mouth without Elena quite knowing how.

Elena was crying. His grip on her waist, her arms, her legs, it hurt. Even the intensity with which he kissed her bruised her lips. But she was okay with it—she knew he was crying, too. She felt another of his tears slide down her cheek.

She didn't really understand what was going on. Her fist reaction had only been to the pain of his grip, but after a while she found herself pressing against him harder, as if she couldn't get enough. Every inch of her was on fire, yet she was shivering. She moaned as she felt his mouth find one of her nipples. She hadn't remembered getting naked. Or him getting naked, or them moving to the bed. She didn't think twice about it though, his skin felt too good against her own.

Her eyes were open, but she wasn't really seeing anything, only feeling his body, his hands against her. "Damon!" She pleaded, but she wasn't sure what for. She felt him move lower down her body, kissing a path, and she tried to tug him back up to her mouth, but stopped when his lips kissed a spot that had her shuddering violently. Elena tried to wiggle away from sensations that were too intense for her to bear, but in a moment that harsh grip was back, hurting in a good way, and holding her still and open for him with ease.

Cold air assaulted her mound before his warm mouth closed over her. Her upper body thrashed at the feeling of his lips, but he held her legs spread wide and continued to dip his head between them. He was stabbing and licking and sucking, drawing it out until she was begging for him to finally stop the torture. His tongue was strong and firm, as solid and unyielding as any finger, but unbelievably soft and textured. His movements were rough and intense, but with a precise tenderness that had Elena crying out in frustration and want.

Elena's back arched until she was half-sitting as she held his head as hard against her as she could. She saw his raven-black hair shine an almost-blue in the light as it bobbed against her before her vision blurred and she cried out. She fell back against the bed, too weak to even try to pull away as he continued with softer and slower licks. Each new lick added to her aftershocks, and at every light touch she was jerking, almost flinching as he continued to caress her over-sensitized nub. "Damon," she whispered, tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck. Her whole body shook when he gave her another unnecessary lick.

He finally moved back up over her body, his hands lightly brushing her side and then her breasts before he rolled off her. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were closed tightly. His fists' were clenched at his sides. "Damon?" Elena asked.

His eyes shot open, and Elena was surprised to see they were still wet with tears. "Please." He said softly, a question, maybe a prayer. His hands ran down her shoulders where she leaned over him on the bed, and he never took those blue eyes away from hers.

Elena remembered begging herself, and knew what he wanted, but before she climbed over him, she wanted to take in his body. She looked at his chest, smoothed her hands over the muscles she found there. She moved lower, kissed the head of his cock. Elena had a strange desire to make this last, but she heard his growl and knew what he needed.

She climbed over him and sat at his waist, just below the belly button. His cock was swollen and incredibly stiff. She felt it press against her from behind. "Please," he moaned out again, and Elena realized that he wasn't about to flip her over and take control. He wanted her to be in charge. Elena moved a little lower and positioned him at her entrance. She waited, not trying to tease, just wondering if he was going to thrust up into her. He didn't. He grunted in pain.

Elena slowly sank onto him. It was tight, but she was so wet she was soon sliding down him as she rested more of her weight down on him. "Yes," Damon said tightly, his hands going to her waist, but not directing any of her movements. Elena started off her pace slowly, watching his face all the while. When she saw how much he was enjoying her, she got more and more turned on. Her pace quickened, and she could tell by the small noises Damon made that he liked that. She moved even quicker in her renewed frenzy.

His hands pushed her stomach back just slightly, the only time he'd ever interfered with her movements. Elena gasped at the different angle as he hit a spot she'd never experienced before. She rode him at this angle, her back arched slightly as she leaned back, close to coming. She moaned as she rode him mindlessly, intent only on the pleasure. She heard Damon's intake of breath and she gasped at the rush of arousal that simple sound caused. Damon's hand moved to her hips once more, and the harsh, painful grip tripped her over the edge. She cried out as she came and tightened around him. Damon bucked underneath her as he, too, found his release.

She fell into haze after that, in a half-sleep at his side. "Elena?" At his voice she opened her eyes. Damon's head turned to face her. His blue eyes were breath-taking, but his expression was unreadable. "I'll help you save him." He got out of the bed and headed to the bathroom.

Elena lay in the same positioned he'd left her in for a while, confused. What had she done? Why wasn't she happy he would help her save Stefan? Even if she didn't love Stefan anymore, she still couldn't leave him to the hands of Klaus. She wouldn't have let that happen to any of her friends. Elena got out of the bed slowly. She'd worry about what had happened after she saved Stefan.

**_A/N: This is named for the song by the Pixies, but it's just used as a title, it's not really based on the fic. I just think that it works here, but I'm always open to suggestions._**


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